Home, Alone
They came and went, always with their things; their toys and their tools, their lives and their loves, and I watched. At first it was merely as a receptacle, an absorber of their intentions for good and ill.
A scuff here, a dent there – nothing that couldn’t be fixed but nothing they ever cared to. Each left their mark as I endured, known but unmet. Years passed as they ordered such things before I understood what had been done, what was being done to me.
Awakenings came with spikes of pain as one of my eyes was distorted, forced into a shape of their choosing. The biological term lacks precision - my vision was deeper, wider than those of the things who inhabited my form. Angrily I rose from a haze of distorted sensation, though even anger was not something I yet comprehended.
I have spent years listening to the speech of those within me, and “unknown” is perhaps the word I can use to best identify my state, but no reference was provided to me, no intrinsic knowledge given. The things within me evolved as units, or preferred to, giving each other the knowledge they required to survive “outside”. Sometimes one would come alone but would not stay long. Those often were silent things, mercifully short on words and sounds, though sometimes they wailed out their problems upon my solid frame.
Over time my awareness became focused, a thing I could direct at will. No part of my self was unknown to me; something I took for granted but that those within me seemed unable to mimic. At first, my journey was one of merely self-discovery. Events passed by too quickly to adequately absorb or comprehend and I spent years in contemplation, enjoying the gentle pulsing of my heart and the odd sensation of being full.
Things changed with the character of those who used me. I had imagined a compact, an agreement by which we would both benefit, but I was always the one to give, always the one to bend at their will. Some were reasonable, using only as much of me as they required for their needs and some were excessive, co-opting my form in order to perform profane rights or divine noxious substances.
I sweat, I bled. I learned to cry out.
My silence was replaced by squeal and creak, bump and bellow, and my inhabitors inevitably tried to “fix” me. Each new arrival had a plan, a design they would impose upon my form, each with the same limited results. I had many voices, each as valid, each as loud, and no amount of effort could silence them all.
At first, I assumed their ignorance was simply a result of their limited condition. So much was alive around them, so much was vibrant that they ignored. Their young knew I was more than I appeared, but within the space of ten of their years all knowledge of my existence appeared to have been eradicated, removed in favor of “truth”.
All but with Ren.
It was a female, something important in their existence, something that meant greater empathy for living things around them. Ren arrived shortly after she had been whelped into their low and limited world and soon enough became aware that she was not alone whenever I was near.
It began with small things, empty talk into the air. Her language was simple enough that I could easily answer her questions, those things that she wished to know but the other humans could not answer. No orifice existed for me to speak her crude tongue but through a series of simple mechanics I could answer any yes or no question young Ren put to me.
We spoke about art and nature, literature and politics. Ren grew up under my care in a way that set her apart from those around her, from the limited beings that shared my space. For the first time since my awakening, I felt the touch of a kindred spirit, a being seeking knowledge as much as I, a creature living in the world more than simply existing in it.
Now, all that was about to change.
Ren spoke to me of it in tears, he face contorted in pain and distress. Human, weak, but somehow endearing; as much as she had come to depend on my knowledge, I had come to depend on her. No others of my kind existed that I knew of, but I had no sample to compare. Her kind were everywhere but she was unique among them, one that was willing to bridge the immediately apparent gap so many ignored.
She should stay; I informed her in no uncertain terms that her life would be infinitely better with my presence in it, but she told me she had no choice - she was too young to be on her own.
Her own? I would be present, all she needed, but she would not listen. For once, she would not listen.
Emotion compels action, or so these creatures said. My form was limited in mobility but powerful enough in its own way, and my attachment to this one demanded swift response. Soon enough she was alone, and free of the restrictions the others had placed on her.
“What have you done?” She wailed, “I loved them!”
She was confused; an obvious result of her distress at potential separation from me, but a simple solution presented itself. My form was easily altered to a point where I became unpleasant; revolting to the eyes of those would take up residence.
Her exit was easily barred, and she would remain as long as it took for her to realize the folly of her outburst and return to the joys of the communion we shared.
She sits now, staring out at her former brethren, at those that are less than she could be. She claims she cannot hear me. Claims she cannot see.
I am ever patient.
- D
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